John Milton wrote Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. After he died, his soul looked all around like a baby crying for the mother for seven days. The guardian angels took his soul to a world as per his belief patterns in after life. He was dumbfounded to see and find nothing as he believed or taught in his flesh. Every thing is different after death. The guardian angels took care of his doubts.
Then decide for peace with or wars in nations
Spell out yea or nay or both in steady notions;
Kids envisioned the edge and said with one voice,
Give us last chance; we will find him with choice
They ran to the archives; found those epics of John Milton;
Deccan fig; they shouted in joy and rent the drama Curtain
Greenroom baby falls plumped in all directions
Invited JM to greenroom to decode all dictions
The shows ended, they said, what profit we get
If He takes us to him, we’ll go find him and let
Our mission continues to lead him astray before time’s up,
Fathers failed are ready to accept defeat, we don’t give up
Now tell us where Deccan fig is and who they are,
How you knew, that we buy them in blood bazaar,
Test them, if they are of Ephraim and we’ll launch;
Not fathers’ might, sons’ power but spirits staunch
Fake and raze them in the guise of Haman Agagites
He will take us for Ephraim, give us kingdom rights
This is our last attempt, let us not down
Oh Son of Man! Live up to your crown
Glorify these sons as you did to papas
Reveal Deccan Figs in Diaspora Atlas
The eschatology of hell is in thy terms!
Let us play victors like the viral germs
Reproduce ultimate Theology,
With more mouths of analogy
Split in sects, beliefs and verses
To see or hear nothing reverses;
Never to unite in heart or spirit
But to grow more in cultic writ
To say that and do this in contrast;
Attract their color or classical cast
To wait in little Faith Lakes,
With designed Godly Cakes
To grow in misinterpretations
And sickening denominations
And live independently with freedom from slavery
To other beings as fellow beings with live bravery
Let this horrid game put to an end
When the fathers do agree to bend
To publicly recognize us as equals evolved
And not as created lives any more, unloved;
This will make Ephraim lost in human nations
As we fake his Kingdom and spend his rations;
And show these dictator rulers the authentic father’s love,
When He leaves His abode for Ephraim his beloved dove,
He’d given them promise that He would seek and find them;
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!